The Most Important Meal of the Day
by Becka73
Summary: You know what they say about breakfast...


**The Most Important Meal of the Day**

**By Becky**

**Note: This is my entry into Maygra's 80's Music Challenge. My song was Donna Summer's "She Works Hard for the Money". Made me think of waitresses, and well, this is were my twisted little mind wandered off to...**

"Get over it, ya big baby! Who needs all that hot water when cold makes waking up so much more stimulating?" Dean taunts, as he maneuvers the car into the parking lot of Suzy's Diner, home to the best breakfast special Summerton has to offer, if you go by the ad on the back of the local phone directory. Glancing over at his brother, he can't help but laugh, taking note of the multiple layers of clothing the younger man is wearing to stave off the frigid reminders of his misfortune.

"Stimulating, huh? Not exactly how I'd describe it, but that's just me," Sam replies, full of sarcasm and just a pinch of pissed off. "Just remember, payback's a bitch, and I know where you sleep."

"Don't be making threats you can't pull off, Sammy. You might know where I sleep, but can you get within ten feet without me catching your noisy ass? I think not," the older man admonishes, unable to keep the smirk off his face or the mischievous twinkle from his eyes. "Come on. I hear breakfast calling."

A bell jingles over the door as they enter, signaling their arrival. Surprisingly the diner is empty, aside from a couple of figures moving around back in the kitchen. The muted sounds of Donna Summers fill the air as she belts out "She Works Hard for the Money."

Taking a seat in one of the diner's booths, the guys pick up their menus and begin to debate over what they'd like to start their day with: grease-laden eggs and crisp bacon or crisp eggs and grease-laden bacon. Decisions, decisions...

Moments later, a high-pitched shriek erupts from behind the double doors to the kitchen. Looking up, they see the figure of a pink and white-clad waitress come into view as she backs hastily past the counter, bounces off the corner of one of the other booths and makes for the door.

"That's it! I've had enough! I can't be working in a place where the food jumps on the plate and tries to serves itself. I quit!" she shrieks as she tosses her notepad and apron onto the scuffed tile floor on her way to freedom. The last they see of her is a flash of grey hair and the exhaust from her rusty Toyota as it roars out onto the roadway.

"Somehow I don't think that bodes well for our breakfast," Sam states casually as he looks out the window into the parking lot. "I swear, I'd like just once to have a somewhat normal day. Is that too much to ask?" he mutters to himself.

"Apparently that answer would be yes," Dean offers as he slides out of the booth and makes his way towards the kitchen. Turning back to Sam, and noting his failure to follow, he ask, "Well, are ya coming with me to find these self-service breakfast foods of doom, or what? Somehow I'm thinking this falls into the category of weird and freaky stuff, and you know that's just our kind of thing."

Rolling his eyes heavenward and heaving a sigh of defeat, Sam follows. "Weird and freaky, that's us. Can't even have breakfast like regular people."

Carefully pushing through one of the grease-smudged swinging doors, Dean quietly makes his way into the kitchen, closely followed by Sam. They enter just in time to hear the back door slam shut. Apparently the other person they saw earlier has decided to beat a hasty retreat.

Taking his eyes off the door, and looking further into the room, Dean gasps, "Whoa! Do you see what I'm seeing?" as his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"I see it, but..." Sam begins, but stops as he watches the strange show going on across the room. On top of the long, steel prep counter, rows of silverware are making their way across the gleaming surface from the large, plastic drain at the far end. Forks and spoons, two by two, slowly march towards them. The rhythmic sound of metal scraping metal adding to the bizarre effect.

"I... I... Hell, I'm not sure what this is all about," Dean croaks out, still gaping at the scene. He reaches for his gun, but he hesitates. "Would it really do any good to blast the heck outta the silverware?" he wonders aloud, glancing over at Sam.

"Don't ask me!" the younger man whispers as his eyes dart from Dean to the flatware and back again. "This kinda thing didn't happen at Stanford! They just gave us nice, safe plastic sporks!"

Just then, a loud crash, followed by screeching metal sounds make themselves known. Looking to the opposite counter, the boys note that things are taking a turn for the worst.

"Dude! I think you maybe pissed off that toaster with the 'spork' comment. I swear to God it's edging your way! And from the looks of it, its armed and dangerous," Dean warned, as the mobile appliance bounced from side to side in its bid for momentum, twin pieces of dark-edged bread peaking out from its slots.

"I mean who the hell really wants whole wheat anyway!" he yells as he ducks to avoid the two flaming slices of grain-filled goodness whizzing over their heads. Before he can continue, however, the whoosh of a pilot light igniting in the large stove in front of them captures his attention.

"Sam, run!" he screams, pushing the taller man backward through the door, following close on his heals.

Minutes later, as both men find themselves sailing through the air and plummeting to the ground below, Suzy's Diner explodes into a colorful array of reds and yellows as flames erupt from every corner.

Pushes up from the pavement and looking over to lock eyes with his slightly singed big brother, Sam growls,."Let's get one thing straight." Pausing momentarily, to spit out an offending egg shell fragment, he continues, "The next time you want a 'nice, hot breakfast', we're hitting the drive-through at McDonald's, understand?"

Looking over to his brother, and trying to hide the tiny bit of guilt he knows he should feel, Dean replies "I hear ya, Sammy! I'd rather have a heart attack in a box than a rogue toaster any day!" With that said, he rises to his feet, takes one last look over his shoulder at the smouldering remains of Suzy's Diner and beats a hasty retreat to the Impala.

Note - Feedback is always, always appreciated. It really helps keep one motivated:)


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